


across the devil's pond

by bvrnie



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, And a couple other things I haven't ironed out yet, Anyways have this, Buddy Cop AU, Daddy Kink, Eventual Smut, F/M, M/M, Mixed with Awake AU idk how to tag, When there is NSFW it will have, also some of these charas don't show up till later. no snooping!!, but i'll add more if i need to whatever, eventually nsfw, i hope u do too, i really like this idea, there is some Peter/MJ in this but it's more so about Peter/Wade. You'll see.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17739839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bvrnie/pseuds/bvrnie
Summary: When an accident kills his homicide detective partner, Peter struggles to accept the loss, confiding in his friend Mary Jane and going to therapy to fix the hole in his life. The only problem is, to Peter Parker, there's no hole at all -- when he falls asleep, he awakes to a reality where Wade Wilson is alive and Mary Jane is dead.Things are just a little complicated.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello friends! yes, i did threaten to write a buddy cop au but then i remembered a show i watched a while back that i really loved the concept of and wanted to mess around and tweak the plot a little for good old peter parker. 
> 
> here we are. 
> 
> this is unbeta'd because i'm uncool. 
> 
> see ya at the end of the chapter for more notes!

 

 

Peter doesn’t remember what his life was before the accident. Nothing makes coherent sense anymore, reality has warped around and twisted in his mind. His brain buzzes on overload, replaying the same incident over and over.

 

The glass cracking, the metal creaking, the jostling, and blood in his mouth. And what about _them_ , what about his _friends_ \--

 

“Let’s try again, Peter,” His therapist, Steve Rogers, was a patient mind with eyes that shone of the ocean. Pure, deep, and endless. His stare pierces Peter where he sits, anxiety tracing up his spine and locking him in place. The air feels too conditioned for the fevered thoughts lingering in Peter’s mind, circling his nervous system and causing him to feel weightless. He thinks of the judgement Steve regards him with, no matter how softly he attempts to weather his own opinion out of Peter’s psyche, “ the accident. Recount to me what happened, again.”

 

That was simple. The accident was straight forward.

 

“It was raining upstate. I was driving home with MJ and Wade. Somehow, I lost control of the car and we rolled down the hill. When I woke up, neither of them were conscious. The next time I woke up, I was in the hospital,” Peter feels desensitized to the conversation entirely, reciting it as if he were reading it off a script. He knows the song and dance that Steve is going for.

 

Really, he’s just a basket case. Who knows, maybe Peter really was just _crazy._ The accident was etched in stone, a focal point of where his life ripped at the seams and spread him along the wind. Steve writes idley on the pad in his lap, Peter’s file spread open to scrutinize down to the syllable of what Peter says.

 

“Yes, and when you woke up in the hospital?” The conversation is making Peter’s body feel restless, joints tightening with unvoiced stress. He knows where this is going, where it always undoubtedly goes -- repeating over and over into infinity.

 

“I woke up, and MJ was there,” Steve shifts in his seat as if Peter has said something particularly interesting. The cat with the canary, satisfaction that Peter seemingly accepts his word as gospel. The irritation burns hot spots in Peter’s skin, like a knife cutting him enough to sting.

 

“Ms. Watson was with you. You’d lost consciousness shortly after being found, and you’d been in a coma since. But remarkably, you woke up. What did she tell you?” The words are said like the fuze from dynamite, like he’s about to blow Peter’s denial apart. The heat pricking at Peter’s skin makes his jaw clench.

 

“ Wade died in the car accident,” The words feel like venom, feeling as if they were ringing untrue. Steve clicks his pen, writing further notes into his notebook as Peter watches the movement with minimal interest.

“ Wade Wilson died in the car accident. He’s been your partner for about four years, right? It must be a shock to have him gone, yet I’ve heard you decided to return to work? So shortly after his death? Perhaps you’re keeping your mind busy, and that’s why your dreams are making you restless. If you slowed down on taking cases, perhaps your exhaustion would improve and your mind could be at ease. You need to process what happened, Peter, not push it away like nothing. You need to process,” His insistence makes Peter glance at the clock, the minute pushing the time over to chime. He’s never been so thankful their session is over.

 

“I have processed it. Thank you for your concern, doctor. I’ll make sure to keep it in mind,” Peter can’t help his bitterness, irritation making him feel like steam was blowing out of his ears. He needed fresh air, and preferably fast. He doesn’t pause to listen to Steve’s goodbye, calling that he’ll be back the next week over his shoulder. His thoughts feel jumbled and melded together, like they’re suspended in jello. No connections, nothing communicating. Fuck, maybe he really was losing it.

 

Nope. Not today. Today, Peter Parker had bigger fish to fry, and he intended to.

 

\---

 

“Peter! Hey!” His name cuts the busied and occupied space of the office as Peter walks in to set his coat down. He turns his head a fraction, glancing at who called for his attention.

 

“Hey Storm, what’s up?” Peter Parker knew of Johnny Storm in passing, not much else. He seemed to be more interested in what Reed had planned in order to get his chance to go higher up. Johnny, to be blunt, was a hotshot. Having minimal experience in serious fields, scraping by with smaller busts as an everyday cop. He dreamed of working homicide cases and seemed to take a liking to Peter.

 

_A liking_ would probably be the wrong word for it, actually. It was more insistent admiration, like he wanted to be _in_ Peter’s position rather than learn it. Here he was, bugging Reed endlessly to have his chance to move higher up. And now Peter is very _suddenly_ without a partner. Peter’s not liking his odds.

 

“Captain Richards told me that I was going to go with you on the scene we have today,” Johnny states it matter of factly, confidently, fingers adjusting his belt a little. Peter turns to throw his other belongings that he didn’t need on his desk, adjusting himself to put his jacket back on.

 

Johnny fucking _Storm_ ? Replacing _Wade Wilson_ ? This had to be some sick joke. What on _earth_ was Reed planning with sending Johnny with Peter? Peter had a _system_ , a way he analyzed his cases and Johnny would only get in his way. Why did _Peter_ have to be damned to babysit, he doesn’t have time for --

 

_Babysit._ Reed didn’t stick Johnny on Peter for the fun of it. He stuck Johnny on Peter to _babysit Peter_. To keep an eye on him and report back to Reed when Peter felt like he was behaving erratically or uncontrollably. A tattletale to make sure Peter stayed in line, another annoyance that links back to Steve placing restrictions on what Peter could and could not think.

 

It seems the world was _really_ testing Peter Parker today.

 

“Whatever. Get your jacket, we’re leaving,” Peter picks up the file off his desk, heading for the trooper car while Johnny struggled to pick up his things, trying to keep up with the direction change. A buzz in Peter’s pocket has him pulling his phone out with an irritated sigh, wondering what else the world could possibly do to decide to shit on him. The display screen lights up text messages, the name **MJ** bold on the screen.

 

_Hey, I know you’re busy but do you wanna do dinner?_

_Miss you, tiger. Feels weird to be away from you all the time. With all that’s happened._

 

Despite the situation causing Peter to have a headache, he feels relieved she reached out to him. He realizes with a fierceness that he _misses_ MJ, misses the conversations they’d have about cases. Daily Bugle work always made MJ have all kinds of detail, clientele, whatever Peter was about to walk into might be useful with MJ at his side.

 

_Sure. Meet you at Lenny’’s. Seven okay with you?_

 

She responds back quickly, _works for me. See you there. :)_

 

Okay so, maybe today would have a bit better of an ending than he originally plan. Or not. Here’s hoping.

 

\---

 

“Alright, gentlemen, glad you appeared,” One of the younger cops walks them over to a body laid carefully under a tarp, people standing around it and surveying the bloody motel room with horror. Peter hears Johnny gulp, and almost wants to turn to see if he’s gone green. Maybe give him a barb or two since he wants to be a big homicide detective.

 

_I thought you wanted to be one of the big boys, Johnny._

 

For a moment, something akin to sadness strikes his sternum, causing Peter’s back to go stiff. It’s odd, not seeing Wade with them. He should be here, standing around them, surveying the scene. Because Wade was the eyes and the connections, he was the one to hold the pieces up and let Peter write how they related. That’s how they worked, they were a _team_. To be without each other would be as ridiculous as having one shoe on and one shoe off in the rain.

 

It feels wrong. And empty, and horrible. Peter swallows too, thankful that the scene has caused Johnny to go into temporary panic so that he won’t have to explain himself. There’s no need to open another can of worms, not so soon after seeing Steve. He doesn’t need to feel any _more_ crazy or weird.

 

“What happened?” Peter asks, because he has to take the lead, but also partly to distract himself. Throwing himself into work felt to be the best way.

 

“ What a question that is, Parker, “ Reed turns to him and Peter pauses, Johnny nearly running into him head first. Peter turns, gaze burning into Johnny as he rubs the back of his neck, seemingly in apology. Peter has done this job a million times, he feels he could do it backward and blindfolded. Although he has no real reason to be cruel outside his poor mood, he jerks his head outside the door.

 

“ Why don’t you round up some witnesses for me to question, huh? It’s a crime scene, not a rollercoaster, so if you think you’re gonna vomit, step out of the ride,” Johnny sighs, defeated, but doesn’t fight Peter on his demand. When Peter turns back, Reed is staring at him down his nose. Please.

 

Peter’s already used to Steve treating him like a bug under the microscope, this was easy.

 

“You should be nicer to him. You two work together now, you’re partners. You should communicate more,” Reed says the words with authority but an underlying softness as not to pick at any sore wounds. It’s already too late, Peter knows what he’s getting it.

 

“He’s not my partner,” Peter says casually, mind revelling in the double meaning before continuing to gaze around the room to survey yet again. He’s moved on from this conversation, and that was that.

 

“You have to accept that Wilson isn’t here to help you anymore, Peter. Please. Don’t make me watch you do this to yourself, just -- Wade is _gone_ , Peter. He’s gone. He’s not coming back, you can’t just wait for him,” The silence after is sharp as knives. Peter’s eye pointedly looks at Reed and gives him an unsaid choice. _Want to say that again?_

 

Reed’s mouth opens, and Peter focuses on nothing else, daring him to repeat something as bold as telling Peter to _get over it_ just a month after the accident. All personal experiences aside, it was just plain _rude_.

 

“Uh,” Johnny’s voice cuts the tension, and then it’s gone like it never existed. Peter turns to him silently, a beckoning that he can continue, “ witnesses are lined up. Sure you don’t want me to interview them?”

 

“No, I will,” Peter immediately nips that idea right in the bud. His witnesses? Absolutely not, “just stay put.”

 

Reed sighs, turning to finally remove the sheet from the body. It’s a girl, young, maybe in her early twenties. Peter examines her blonde hair, eyes sunken. Her throat has bruising around it, dark and ugly, fitting around her neck akin to a pearl necklace. Even after five years of looking at dead bodies, it never becomes comfortable. Not ever. She was too young for this. She deserved better.

 

“Elizabeth Brant,” Reed says, flipping open his notes to look at what he has written, “she’s twenty-one. Motel owner said she came in late at night, a little drunk, requesting a room. Said she thought that she was crashing for the night, but says that somebody showed up a little later. Then they left, and when she went to check on her the next day, nobody answered. After a while longer of nobody answering the phone in the room, she called the police. Here she is. “

 

Peter leans down to get a closer look, eyes following the bruises.

 

“Seems like somebody got pretty physical,” Peter murmurs, “ any signs of a struggle?”

 

“Not one,” Reed murmurs, “and nobody upstairs or downstairs heard anything. Not a word.”

 

She looks too young, too pale, like porcelain.

 

“Okay. I’ll see what I can dig up,” Peter says, turning for the door to allow photos and evidence to be pulled. He walks out to see Johnny speaking to the woman and her child that stayed upstairs.

 

“Hey,” Peter calls, “I thought I said no talking to the witnesses?”

 

\---

 

Lenny’s isn’t crowded on Tuesdays, and Peter’s thankful. He’d worked up an appetite despite himself, stomach gurgling in delight at the smells that he’s greeted with. The building is already warming in the coolness of the New York fall. A double edged sword, during the day, humidity making Peter feel like he’s sweltering and melting and then night chills that make him shiver and freeze. Thank God for heating.. Man for all its stupidity does have moments of pure brilliance.

 

“Pete!” MJ waves him down, in a booth seat, knowing it’s Peter’s favorite. She’s trying to look casual although she’s been thinking about this date. If it’s even a _date_ . Peter knows because she smells like perfume. It’s been nearly a whole month since they saw each other last, and although Peter’s been busy, it’s nice. She balances him, in so many ways. A familiar tugging at his chest reminds him that _this_ is why they were together so often, “ I thought you’d like to sit here. The table chair always suck.”

 

She definitely wasn’t his on and off girlfriend for three years for nothing. She knew him like the back of her hand. Peter wishes he could say he knew her as well.

 

“Yeah, I stand all day and they act like I want to sit on a romanticized flagpole. It’s stiff, alright? It’s not good for me. I’m treating myself to plush leather seats,” Peter babbles, and MJ laughs, sweet and musical.

 

“You’re such an old man,” She teases and Peter scoffs, ordering a drink with the passing waitress while MJ gloats in her insults.

 

“Sometimes I feel like one. They stuck Johnny Storm on me. As my new _partner_ , isn’t that totally crazy?” Peter feels the annoyance he’s been harboring all day rear its ugly head, feeling like everyone was out to get him. He feels like everyone judges him outside MJ, who spends her time supporting him. Or attempting to, since most of the time Peter misses her calls. She cares, he knows -- but sometimes that makes it worse.

 

She cares too much and thinks she’s watching him spiral into denial. He could tell her the truth. Something in his gut wants to, but he resists, wishing the drink he ordered would show up so he could have an excuse for avoiding talking more.

 

“Oh really? Ugh. I can’t believe they’re using a moment of your own personal weakness as a chance to train someone to----.... Yeah. That just really sucks,” She’s said too much and they’ve only been here five minutes. Peter has to steel himself not to sigh or do anything else that might be considered rude. She looks beautiful and happy to see him, he really doesn’t want to screw this up.

 

“Yeah. He’s just a brat, you know? He thinks he has this whole thing figured out, but he doesn’t,” Peter leaves it at that instead of going into detail. Typically he’d speak to Wade about it in detail, explain how it annoyed him and Wade would agree and add on, knowing Peter’s pain. Wade was always so good at soothing him, and Peter’s missing the comfort right about now. The waitress finally comes back with his drink and they order, seemingly putting that conversation in the ground. So, no talking about Johnny, and definitely no talking about Steve. The less MJ knew about the way Peter’s brain was working right now, the better.

 

“I got a case today. Girl named Elizabeth Brant was murdered. I know we shouldn’t talk business first thing, but I was hoping that maybe you could shed some light on the situation? The name isn’t ringing a bell, is it?” Peter watches as her facial expression animate with different thoughts, but overall taking on a grim look at has Peter wary of what she’ll say next.

 

“Brant, huh? I wonder why that sounds so familiar, Brant… “ She trails as their pizza is set in front of them, still steaming. Peter thanks the waitress promptly to give MJ a space to continue. She leans across the table a bit, giving him a look that tells him that she’s onto something, and it’s not something good, “Wasn’t that also the last name of the kid that was killed a couple cities over not too long ago? It was a guy wasn’t it? Bennett Brant?”

 

Peter hums, remembering that he and Wade had heard it on the radio at some point.

 

_I can’t imagine how horrible it’d be to lose someone in an instant. Boy, thoughts like that really put salt in my coffee. What do ya say we change the station and maybe get some Beyonce going? The pipes could use some work._

 

Peter remembers smacking his hand over Wade’s mouth and threatening horrible things if Wade dared to open his mouth. He licked Peter’s palm and belted it out anyways despite Peter covering his ears and yelling that he was crazy. Too bad Peter had to learn the lesson of losing someone the hard way.

 

“Peter? Earth to Peter?” MJ waves her hand in front of his face.

 

“Oh!” Peter exclaims, realizing he wasn’t paying attention, “ sorry. Right, you’re right about that Brant thing. You don’t think they could be related, do you?”

 

MJ taps her finger against her chin, “ they could be. I have some sources who might be able to dig some stuff up and do some research. I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, do you mind? I’m starving.”

 

Peter shrugs. He doesn’t mind at all.

 

\---

 

The next day, the fall chill is barely lifting from the streets of Manhattan as Peter slips into work. Whew. Cold out there. He pulls the gloves off his hands, rubbing them together to expel the frigid feeling that seems to want to hang onto his bones. He breathes against his hands on the way up to the office in the elevator, getting off as it dings for floor three.

 

Elizabeth Brant… so much to learn. She had to connect to that Bennett guy. Somehow, they had to shape a bigger piece of the puzzle. Who murders an innocent party girl in the dead of night? With no sound? There was no way it wasn’t premeditated. As far as cause of death goes, he needs the papers on that. So it seems that it needs to be put on the backburner for now.

 

“Hey Frosty, you need a magic hat to get you back to the present? I’ve been trying to get into some conversation here, baby boy. Even gave you one of my _best_ one liners, and you aren’t even listening,”  The voice sounds like one too many cigarettes but warm as a cup of coffee on a winter’s day. Peter turns, grin already painting his face as he makes eye contact with eyes that pierce blue. So blue and gold and a hint of brown. Peter’s glad for that, else it’d remind him too much of Steve.

This is the opposite of Steve Rogers.

 

Wade Wilson leans across his desk with a languid motion, like he has no place to be and no place to ever go. He smiles, twiddling a pen in his hand and looking at Peter like Peter is the best thing to show up today. Like he was stranded on an island and suddenly a boat washed ashore, all smug and giddy. Peter wants to say he absolutely loathes this attitude, and he’d _pretend to_ all the way to his dying breath, but Wade Wilson was not his partner or best friend for nothing.

 

“And what oneliner did you land on me this time?” Peter asks, trying to sound irritated but instead sounds just as goofy as Wade. He sits in his desk across from where Wade is clearly crowding into his space next to his computer, demanding to be paid attention to even though Peter boots it up to take a look at what’s going on for the day.

 

“Nope! Sorry, Princess. It was a once in a lifetime chance, a punch card with only one punch. No free extra one liners today, you take what you can get. Try again tomorrow. Or you could insert some cash to try again. I could use twenty bucks,” Wade takes so many words to say something so simple. It’s why he’s so good at undercover work and fast talk. He fills the spaces Peter can’t. It’s nice to not have to worry about an awkward silence.

 

“Wow, four years later and I still hope you give up that nickname. It reminds me that I can’t ever trust you with anything. Does your mouth have a windup since your teeth don’t know when to stop chattering?” Peter sighs, feeling his face flush in embarrassment.

 

“You made the mistake of telling me that you wore one of MJ’s princess costumes when you were younger! It isn’t my fault you spilled the beans on it. Ever since then it’s stuck like gum, baby boy. The kind that hardens on bleachers and is stretched _real_ thin. Never getting it off, ever. I’ll stop calling you princess when you stop acting like one,” Wade isn’t like anyone else. He doesn’t falter on the word ‘MJ.’ He doesn’t stumble or quiet down. He finishes what he has to say. He doesn’t treat Peter any different than how he was a little over a month ago.

 

It’s one of Peter’s favorite things about Wade: he makes everything feel normal.

 

Peter inhales, fighting a smile. Wade’s cologne crowds his senses, and Peter takes a moment to watch his toothy grin widen when he sees that Peter is _clearly_ amused. Rat bastard.

 

“Gentlemen, mind getting a move on?” Susan’s voice cuts the moment and Peter and Wade are working to stand. They move together, in the same step to the police car. Peter gets into the passenger seat, feeling comfortable in his position of co-pilot. Peter thinks of Johnny riding next to him, sucking up in order to get Peter’s approval or to have Peter have less issues with him.

 

How is Peter supposed to feel about it when _this_ exists? They are in perfect alignment, the synergy between Wade and Peter was always the same. They practically existed on the same wavelength as detectives although their personalities were a bit different.

 

Wade was the brawn and Peter was the brains. What was Johnny to Peter in that sense? The dumbass? The extra weight? Peter can’t help but relax on the car ride over to the crime scene, loving how easy it feels. He glances at Wade, watching as he bops his head to the beat on the radio animatedly, clearly in an attempt to make Peter laugh. Which he does _not_ , instead he reaches to smack Wade’s chest.

 

“Violence isn’t the answer, Petey!” Wade whines in retaliation, one hand leaving the steering wheel to jab into Peter’s side. Peter practically squeaks, squirming in his seat. Curse Wade for knowing he’s ticklish! “You know I’m a lover, not a fighter, baby boy! Stop picking on me or I’ll report you for abuse, you little shit.”

 

Peter rolls his eyes, clacking his teeth together, as if he were chomping, threatening to bite Wade’s finger. Wade squawks, loud and unnecessary and completely overdramatic, yanking his hand back.

 

“Don’t make me get the muzzle, you know I find it kinky,” Wade says with a laugh as Peter makes a noise of disgust.

 

“Shut up. It’s been four years and we haven’t fucked, and I don’t intend to,” Peter swallows after the admittance, knowing full well how Wade will take the statement. Wade deflates, just a little, and Peter curses himself for making even a _reference_ to MJ, fuck. It wasn’t what either of them needed. Peter observes Wade from the corner of his eye, and for the record, Wade is _handsome,_ Peter supposes. He had a full body, warm and sturdy. He was funny and smelled good and…. and  he was _okay._ Peter shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

 

“Keep saying it, Princess. I’ve read all the romantic cop novels. Haven’t you seen _Law And Order_? The agents always bone, baby. Some dramatic plot point hasn’t happened yet,” Wade waggles his eyebrows, looking at Peter like a sleazy frat boy, “I know what’ll get you hard. Can I sing for you?”

 

Peter glares, “I _can_ and _will_ taze you, Wade Wilson.”

 

\----

 

“It was crazy, man, I’ve never seen him like that,” The frantic voice rings in the beaten down house, police tape marking the scene like an X on a treasure map. Wade pauses and lifts the tape for Peter, letting him step under.

 

“After you, your majesty,” Peter gives him a look as he starts going under himself. The rookie cops snicker and laugh at Wade’s words, whispering amongst themselves. Peter regards them with general levels of distaste that they’d say something bad about him or Wade when they weren’t looking. It’s rather annoying to be observed so fucking much. Peter really isn’t fond of being a specimen recently, and a part of him wants to march over and start an argument.

 

Say it to Peter’s fucking _face_ if you want to say something.

 

A warm hand presses to Peter’s back, featherlight against his spine. Wade pushes him a little, encouraging him forward toward the house. To anyone else it seems like a gesture intended to rush Peter to stop him from saying anything nasty. Peter, however, knows it’s actually for Wade. It’s an attempt to change the scenery before _Wade_ decides that it’s his problem to deal with and starts a nasty fight with _another_ officer over Peter’s dignity.

 

Most of them knew about MJ, but speculation travels just as fast.

 

“Ignore them,” Wade says lowly, showing the thinness of his patience. Peter picks up his pace, rushing into the crime scene. Susan turns, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder to regard the two of them with a somewhat tired look. The witness standing by her is shaking, eyes too wide, and Peter recognizes drug use when he sees it.

 

“Detectives,” Susan says, seeming to remember that someone standing there does not know them. She turns back a little toward the skinny male standing next to her, raising her hand in greeting, “Mr. Savinski, this is Detective Peter Parker and Detective Wade Wilson. They are going to assist us with figuring out who came in and killed your friend. We’re going to get him justice, that I promise you.”

 

The man looks at Peter with a gaze that says that he’s terrified and confused, but also not completely aware of his surroundings. Interrogation could go well, but it couldn’t be trusted by someone who’s under the influence. This case was going to be harder than it seemed.

 

“Don’t worry, we’re here to help. Sir, can I ask what transpired here tonight?” Wade speaks instead of Peter, his warmth ever present as Peter’s side. It’s comforting and makes Peter feel grounded, the task always seems less daunting with Wade. He’s thankful he’s here with Peter for it.

 

“I don’t know, man! My friend was sitting here, we were hanging out you know. We were playing games and just hanging out,” Peter thinks they were probably also getting fucked up, but he doesn’t push and lets the man talk, “this dude just knocked on the door, and when.. When Ben answered it was just. Boom. His head was gone! And then the dude was gone too, off in a black car. That’s all I know, dude, I swear.”

 

Wade’s intimidation is causing the man to shake, sweat beading on his forehead. Peter steps past wade, reaching out to the man with a gentler approach. Wade always makes it feel accusing, even if he’s not meaning to. Peter’s like a cool glass of water on a hot day, the relief for people who Wade grills too quickly.

 

“That’s okay. We’ll gather what we can from neighbors. Can you think of any reason this would happen to your friend?” Peter’s voice reminds him of the one Steve regards him with. Soft and smooth, but almost fakely so. It’s meant to be coaxing, but really it’s probing for information. See? Peter knows his stuff.

 

“No. Ben didn’t do anything wrong. He was the chillest guy ever. Seriously.” After a few more questions, Peter lets the man go and gives him Peter’s number in case he sees or remembers anything else. For now, it seems that’s all he can get out of him.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Savinski. We appreciate your time,” Peter says genuinely, thrilled that he at _least_ has a witness for the actual crime instead of he said she said.

 

“Gordon. My name is Gordon. And thank you, detectives. If I see or hear anything, you’ll be the first person I call. “ Peter and Wade watch him go with another rookie officer, seemingly on his way out.

 

“Y’know, I hope he remembers to call us,” Wade says, too serious for Peter’s liking and Peter pats his back comfortingly.

 

“If only you sang _Telephone._ Maybe if his ears bled a little, he’d be reminded to call us,” Peter says wistfully, heading toward Susan with the purpose of gathering other details. Wade laughs a little behind him, following in suit but still feeding into the fact that Peter is indulging his annoying humor.

 

“Oh? If I sang it, would that me Gaga and _you_ Beyonce? Is this you admitting that you’re queen bee? Are you gonna tell me that I’ve been a _bad, bad girl_?” Ugh. Peter made such a mistake.

 

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, starting to pick up his pace to escape the torment.

 

“ _Stop calling, stop calling, I don’t wanna talk anymore,_ ” Wade singsongs behind him, just to be an ass. Peter is going to beat the shit out of him for this later.

 

“Captain Storm,” Peter cuts Wade’s humming off to speak to their superior. Like a professional, they can be _professional_ . Sometimes their image is just ruined by _one_ of them. Peter isn’t going to name names.

 

( It rhymes with Blade Stiltson. )

 

“The man was shot, you heard it for yourself. He kept calling him Ben, made it hard to identify him at first, but eventually his friend gave us an actual name. Thank god. Neighbours confirmed it, so we should start digging now rather than later,” Susan speaks the schedule to the two of them, Peter mentally noting it so that Wade doesn’t have time to interrupt or differ from the plan.

 

“What was his name?” Peter asks, flipping open his book to write notes.

 

“Bennett Brant,” The name hits Peter in the face with a sledgehammer.

 

_Bennett Brant._ He just died here, but he was already dead, wasn’t he? Whatever response Peter was going to give her dies in his throat, he feels his brain scrambling to retain the information, hand moving on auto pilot to write down notes. The silence stretches on and Susan looks at him worriedly and Peter realizes he hasn’t spoken.

 

“Uh----” He starts, _what were they talking about again_?

 

“Bennett Brant. Thanks, Cap. Anything else we should know?” Wade fills Peter’s speech, taking the weight off him like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

 

“He has a bit of a criminal record. We should start there. You should ask Gwen, she might be able to dig something up. In any case, we’re going to get the body out of here and get the autopsy done. We should be done by this evening. Maybe go see what you can scrounge up on the street,” Susan waves her hand, dismissing them, and Peter and Wade look at each other before continuing to the cruiser.

 

“Hey, Pete?” Wade asks as he’s unlocking the door, his tone less playful and leaning toward serious. Peter does not want to have these kinds of conversations right now, ugh. He was in such a good mood, too.

 

“Yeah?” Peter responds, impatiently pulling on the car handle, hoping to escape into the solace of the car.

 

“You wanna go to _Sister Margaret’s_ tonight? It might do you good to have a beer or two. We can pick on Weas,” The car door opens and Peter knows that this is Wade being tentative to reach out and spend time outside work. As detectives, they may be the perfect wildcards together. Recently, though? Peter’s been distant with him. Too distant. Wade balances Peter, makes him feel better when it comes to everything. He shouldn’t punish Wade for his own mind betraying him.

 

Peter sits down, waiting for Wade to settle in before he gives a small smile in Wade’s direction.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

The drive back to work is relatively quiet, Peter getting out to head to his car. He wanted nothing more to stay with Wade. The comfort was going to be sorely missed.

 

“See ya tonight, honey,” Wade says jovially and Peter reaches to smack him one last time for good measure. Comfort? Erased. Peter’s taking the receipt for their friendship directly to God and _demanding_ a refund.

 

“You’re buying my time,” Peter says dryly and Wade winks.

 

“If it only costs me some beers for _this_ company? Gotta say, not bad. Not bad at all,” They’re playing, but there’s something serious underlying his tone. Wade swallows, playing with the keys in the ignition, “Sad that the ginger isn’t here to tell us all about this Benny Brant. She’d pull up ancestry.com so fast that our heads would spin. Mark my words.”

 

Peter meets his gaze, watching as Wade struggles with the topic. Despite MJ being Peter’s girlfriend, Wade had grown fond of her as well, although Peter wouldn’t say they were friends. It felt like there was always tension with the three of them somehow. They worked one and one but not so great all together. But he doesn’t really have to worry about that now, does he?

 

The thought makes Peter feel queasy. Time to go.

 

“I’ll see you at _Sister Margaret’s_ ,” Peter starts getting out, unhooking himself but pausing before closing the door, looking in at his partner, “Wade?”

 

“Yeah?” Wade says softly, too vulnerable in a way that makes Peter uncomfortable.

 

“What do you think of Johnny Storm? From the lower squad unit?” Wade seems to find it funny, because he chuckles a little. It relieves the stress Peter didn’t realize he was feeling.

 

“He’s a hotshot. Pure dumbass,” Wade says with humor.

 

Peter lets his laugh echo as he shuts the door.

 

\----

 

“Tell me how it happens,” The demand falls upon Peter’s ears and he feels the same irritation that was bothering him with Steve come back with a vengeance, “how exactly does this work?” Tony Stark was a high end, expensive kind of therapist. He was the kind that told you how it was and watched you from behind too thick glasses. His intelligence and brilliance with breakthroughs was not to be overlooked, however Peter always felt peeved.

 

“I told you. I’m with MJ, I see her, touch her, spend time with her. I solve murder cases and gain information. Then I go to sleep, and when I open my eyes, I’m with Wade. Solving a totally different crime. Over and over. For the past month, I’ve swapped between them,” Peter feels exhausted. Steve and Tony really pull teeth.

 

“And these dreams of MJ, do you feel yourself perhaps lucid dreaming? Making your own choices and memories you think are real? You think you ate pizza with her that night, and you think you talked about Elizabeth Brant’s murder. Don’t you think that maybe you dreamt of Elizabeth because you miss Mary Jane?” Confusion always seeps into his brain when they pick away at his daily routine. Peter hates this, with a passion.

 

“Why would I dream of Elizabeth if I miss MJ?” It seems ridiculous.

 

“MJ worked for the Bugle. Elizabeth did as well until around six months ago. She moved out of state. Maybe you saw her name on the Bugle enough that it gave you a reason to think of MJ?” It seems far fetched, but Peter can’t necessarily speak for his unconscious mind. If that’s what he even is.

 

“I don’t know! Maybe, but it all feels so real to me. It’s not lucid, it’s like I’m _in_ the dream itself, like-- like it’s a part of me, too,” A headache is coming on, he can feel it. Talking about this shit really sucks.

 

“Real to you? So what are you saying? That you can’t tell when you’re awake or asleep?” Tony gives him a look that could only be described as startled, but the way his lip twitches makes Peter know he’s intrigued. Is there a reason all therapists are desperate to psychoanalyze him? Can’t he just go home and watch _Friends_ on Netflix in peace?

 

“Right,” Peter agrees hurriedly, rubbing his temples.

 

“So right now, you can’t tell if you’re asleep or awake,” Tony finishes and Peter nodes mindlessly. God, he just wants to get out of here. He can practically taste (and smell) _Sister Margaret’s._ He needs to _get there_ as soon as possible, “well, Mr. Parker. I can assure you. I am not a dream. You’re awake.”

 

Peter laughs at that. Maybe the stress is just getting to him because he can hear how it leans toward hysterical. How could Tony Stark ever understand what’s happening to him?

 

“That’s what the other therapist said,” He says, humor in his voice, the edge to his voice biting.

 

“You need to start thinking of acceptance. You need to start taking steps to knowing that your friend is dead, Peter. Mary Jane is dead. She died in the accident, she’s not coming back,” they ring so similar to Steve’s words that Peter rolls his eyes, scoffing, “you need to accept that part of your life is over. Once you let her go, these dreams _will_ stop. The longer you suspend yourself, the longer you will be lying to yourself. You need to strive to have normalcy. Hiding from your grief will only cause it to hit you harder later.”

“If you’re saying that I have to give one of them up in order to be _normal_ ,” Peter says through clenched teeth, “then I don’t intend to get back to it. I have no intention of making progress, I can help people. These worlds are similar but not the same. If I can save lives, get ahead of everything, I can be more useful living in both than in one.”

 

And he can’t lose MJ or Wade. They both are his friends. They deserved their lives, even if Peter felt fucking insane.

 

“This isn’t a movie, Mr. Parker. You will never get better if you continue to do this, you can’t just _choose_ this. You should attempt to work through it. I’ll give you some exercises when you leave, go through them and then we’ll meet again next week to discuss it,” Tony writes some notes before standing to print papers.

 

When he hands Peter the exercises, Peter takes them and says he’ll see him next week. Outside the door, they find the trash can. The heaviness in Peter’s bones feels like lead and he thinks that maybe he should go home and just go to sleep. This whole thing is tiring, _all_ the time.

 

His phone suddenly chimes, making him jump. He pulls it out, knowing exactly what it likely is, and feeling grateful for the distraction. A new text from **WADE** , there right when Peter needs him. As usual.

 

_u still coming to sis’s tonite or wat_

_death by boredumb is real princess_

_weas is tlkin abt sumthin lame_

_come improve my nite?_

 

Peter laughs, practically hearing Wade’s pout through the texts.

 

_Sure thing. On my way._

 

The chime of a text is immediate, a flurry of happy emojis fills Peter’s screen and even though he rolls his eyes, Peter finds himself laughing anyways.

 

_see u soon bb boi_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the world is full of coincidences. Peter is learning that those coincidences are even more bizarre in two different worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i'm back with another chapter. anyone who's bothered to read this, thank you. it's kind of a complicated concept but it's very fun to write and i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i do. 
> 
> enjoy the chapter!

 

_ Sister Margaret’s  _ was always busy regardless of day of the week. The energy from the place could be felt from three blocks away, pulsing and beating with bad decisions made by their seedy and suspicious patrons. The bar was not a nice bar that served hundred year old wine, it was a shithole, and Peter damn well knew it to be so. Yet here he was, wading his way through bodies to get to the bar. A man laughs loudly and sloshes his beer, which Peter dodges like a pro. Learned that lesson the hard way too many times, nope. 

 

Wade is lounging up against the bar, looking pensive as Weasel proceeded to speak reverently to him, hands cleaning a glass as if it were an afterthought. So they’re having a debate tonight, huh? The permanent headache that seems to be plaguing him gives a distant throb. Too much Weasel was never good for the brain. 

 

“Just because you can’t appreciate  _ art _ , Wilson, doesn’t mean I can’t. You know, some of us actually have a functioning brain. I know it’s a new concept to you,” It seems the argument is winding down, flames cooling to coals. Thank God Peter’s missed the brunt of it. Once they get going, it’s practically impossible to have any kind of conversation with Wade without being cut off or interrupted somehow. Weasel and Wade were best friends, long going, from back when Wade hadn’t even so much considering stepping into Peter’s life. 

 

Wade’s story was more than complicated when it came to how he intertwined with Peter. Their paths crossed in one of the least likely partnerships to ever be. Peter had always wanted to be a cop since he was a teenager. Uncle Ben’s passing ignited a drive in him to be something better. If he couldn’t be there to save his uncle, then he would be there to save someone else’s. Peter had accepted Ben’s death, he definitely had -- except a part of him burned to know what happened to the man firing the gun. Ben was a file put in a cabinet and stored away, and Peter doesn’t want to say that his death affected his choice in becoming a homicide detective. Personal interests always ended up causing trouble in the end. 

 

Wade was an opposite story. His thirst for revenge leaves him unsatisfied, itching to patch a hole in the life he lived that ended in tragedy. Peter knows the basics: Wade had a fiancee named Vanessa, she was murdered in cold blood by a man robbing her for her purse, Wade didn’t catch him and now he works in homicide in hopes to find a connection somewhere. 

 

To Peter, it seems like a long term Hail Mary. 

 

Peter has never spoken to Wade about her in depth. It’s a subject that puts Wade on the defensive, stiff and agitated. The jokes and the flirting are all a part of Wade’s personality, but a clever smoke screen. It conceals his heartache and any pain he’s suffered -- he deflects Peter and puts their conversation in the grave anytime something remotely personal comes out of his mouth. Denial that doesn’t seem like denial.  In theory, it would make a lot of sense for Wade to console Peter at this time of understanding, however Peter feels there’s an unsaid agreement between them that they wouldn’t dwell on their girlfriends. 

 

_ Present’s a gift, honey, let’s not waste it.  _

 

Even after the accident, Wade feels out of reach, yet too close to be considered someone that Peter could live without. What a thin red line this tows. 

 

Weasel knew Wade through all of that, and seemed to be one of the only people outside Peter that could hold Wade’s undivided attention. 

 

“Well, Weasel, as I said and will say again, Pulp Fiction sucks dick. Just admit that you’re only watching it because you want to bone Uma Thurman, and move on. You always gotta make shit so complicated, like you’re a  _ higher being _ for not admitting that you just watched it to jerk it,” Wade rolls his eyes, “Shrek is superior and I’ll hear no more.” 

 

Weasel opens his mouth to retort, but Wade is suddenly turning, regarding Peter with smirk of satisfaction at knowing he got the last word. Weasel is far from spluttering, or embarrassed, he watches Peter with an unsettling look in his beady eyes. Thin fingers reach to adjust the rims of his glasses and Peter knows without saying that he’s signed up for trouble tonight. 

 

Well, the world can’t get any more fucked. He’s being told he’s psychotic as he lives in two lives with one of each of his best friends dead. Bring it. 

 

“Well, well, if it isn’t Petey? Thought you were bailing on me for a second. I knew you couldn’t resist seeing Weasel, since he’s such a peach,” Wade laughs a little at Peter’s long suffering sigh and eyeroll. If Peter didn’t respect Wade as much as he does, he might’ve just dragged him out right then. 

 

“A rotting peach,” Peter retorts, walking over to sit in the stool that Wade’s leaning next to. Typically he’d stutter out something to drink to Weasel, and Weasel would make some kind of shitty comment but clearly even Weasel knew Peter wasn’t in the mood. He gets Peter a beer on tap without questioning. 

 

“Geez, Twinks R Us, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like shit,” Weasel’s voice is just hoarse enough to sound like nails on a chalkboard but laced with enough cockiness to really remind Peter that he is a  _ massive asshole.  _

 

“Thanks,” Peter says, offhandedly, taking a large swig of the beer put in front of him. Mm. Always tastes like piss from  _ Sister Margaret’s.  _ Peter wants to say he gives a shit, but the last month has really taught him that God definitely doesn’t. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. 

 

“You don’t really have room to speak, Weas,” Wade drawls for him, taking the heat off of Peter,  “ you look like you haven’t gotten a good fuck in three years and you’ve been bathing in pizza grease. At least Princess has good days, there’s no helping you.” 

 

A commotion at the other end of the bar grabs Weasel’s attention, and he saunters off, calling as he goes, “ okay, break it up, nobody needs tear gas today.” Peter wonders for a moment if Weasel actually owns tear gas. 

 

Wade shifts and Peter’s eyes follow the movement, pulling him slowly from being zoned out and their eyes meet. 

 

“I really thought you were going to cancel,” Wade begins, hand reaching for his own beer, pulling it up to take a swig, “ you never seem all there after going to the shrink. I told you Stark was a real stuck up prick. You sure all that shit isn’t damaging your brain? Blink twice if you need out.” 

 

Peter scoffs, shaking his head at Wade’s words, “You know I don’t even like to go. If it wasn’t required to work my job, I wouldn’t be doing it.” The fight to remain a homicide detective after everything that’s happened has been hard.  _ That _ and many other things have taken their toll as of recently. 

 

“You could take a break, you know. Nobody’s asking you to suddenly jump back into murder. Death’s a fucked thing, baby boy. You should know praying away doesn’t work,” It’s an attempt to comfort him, and Peter knows he should feel grateful but instead he just feels bitter. The hypocrisy! 

 

If  _ Peter _ should take a break, where’s  _ Wade _ taking one? Wade does this whole big show for Vanessa out of revenge, why is it weird for Peter to go back to work so soon but  _ not _ weird for Wade to throw himself into wanting to be a detective? 

 

At least MJ didn’t tell him he needed a break. MJ was  _ helping _ him with solving a case, which Wade clearly doesn’t seem in the mood to be even approaching. Peter shouldn’t be annoyed, shouldn’t be peeved, yet he  _ is.  _

 

“I’m fine. I’m more than capable of doing this job,” The words come out clipped and defensive, and Wade sighs, deflating, scuffing his shoes a little as an excuse to break the eye contact. 

 

“I’m not trying to step on you, Pete,” Wade says, softer, and Peter feels bad for having snapped him. 

 

Having so many people tell you that you’re not capable in two different realities seems to take a toll on a guy. Wade falls quiet and Peter takes another drink of his beer, side glancing at Wade, surveying the conversational damage he might have caused. This feels so hard, so weird, Wade was making things weird the same way MJ made things weird. 

 

So much tension everywhere, can’t he just get back to  _ fucking normal _ ? He wants to snap at Wade and just say to stop acting so dramatic because MJ isn’t even  _ gone _ \-- stop trying to spare his feelings.

 

_ Except you’ll sound crazy _ , his brain reminds, and Peter sighs a little instead. 

 

Even now, trusting Wade completely feels impossible. 

  
  


Peter thinks of talking to MJ for the first time in a month yesterday, in the other world. This is similar, Peter’s first one on one activity with Wade since the accident. It used to always be the three of them, conversation’s different now it’s just the two of them. He reflects this feeling in the world with MJ as well, however with her it’s a bit less weird. MJ and Peter have known each other since high school, dated when they were adults -- he’d spent a lot of time one on one with her. 

 

The last four years of Peter’s life have been significantly more interesting with Wade around, but he’s spent less personal time with Wade. Peter feels like he barely knows MJ, struggles to understand her even now, post accident in their world. This feels like an even more complicated labyrinth -- wanting to be closer yet feeling close to his partner makes him feel confused. It’s a middle ground that Peter never realized he was at with Wade, he always had MJ to fill any spaces that he couldn’t, think of other ideas and perspectives that he didn’t have. 

 

Now it was just the silence between their words. 

 

“We should probably get talking about Benny,” Wade drops the conversation looming over them and Peter feels relieved that he’s already moving on. Wade feels like the only thing good in this reality, and Peter doesn’t want to argue first thing when they go out. He feels if he lets it happen, they may never recover. And Peter  _ needs _ Wade.

 

“What about him?” Peter asks, remembering that he should be looking into a case. Wade puts his beer down, leaning a little closer to Peter in an attempt at privacy. Of course, there was no privacy at  _ Sister Margaret’s _ but one could get close. He smells like beer and cologne, and Peter feels a wave of dizziness. He hasn’t drank in a while, the tipsiness is starting to hit. 

 

“Apparently, something happened somewhere,,” Wade explains, “Clearly they weren’t buddy-buddy, since our killer didn’t knock on the door and sing koon be yuh.” 

 

“It’s  _ Kumbaya _ , Wade,” Peter says, brows pushing together. 

 

“ Gesundheit,” Wade deadpans and Peter can’t help but shake a little with laughter, biting down on his lip to keep from indulging Wade’s terrible jokes. 

 

“Okay? So? Do you have a lead or are you just monologuing again? Any day now, Hamlet,” Peter grins into his glass as he drinks and Wade tips it back a little farther to watch Peter splutter. He laughs, full of childish joy as Peter smacks him  _ hard _ in the chest. 

 

“Ouch! Princess! It was just a party foul,” Wade attempts to plead, but still has too much laughter laced in his voice, “anyways -- yeah, I found a lead. Turns out, when he originally got busted for some stuff a few months back, he made a collect call out to his mother. His mom’s holed up in a nursing home upstate.” 

 

Wade swallows and pauses a little after the word  _ upstate.  _ Peter cringes, moreso for his lack of reaction and Wade’s discomfort than his own. He didn’t expect them to have to head up that direction so soon. Fuck. 

 

“I thought we could give her a visit. Susie got the autopsy back and it showed traces of drugs in his system. Something tells me that mommy probably knew of his drug habits. We should start there,” Wade sounds sure and Peter likes that he’s taking the reins. Peter forgets how much Wade figures out on his own, without Peter having to prompt him to look. It feels like relief compared to having to lead Johnny around, and something about Wade just  _ fits _ in Peter’s life. 

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Peter agrees, loving how easy this feels. How  _ good _ they are as partners at solving cases. 

 

Too bad Wade couldn’t help him with Elizabeth’s case. Their bizarre connection across the realities makes Peter uneasy. This definitely couldn’t lead to anything good. Peter distracts himself, attempting to tie himself in the moment with Wade instead of floating off. Too much time being wasted for one night thinking about what’s going on in another life. It’s not bedtime yet. He perks up a bit, grinning up at his partner with a renewed idea. 

 

“Wanna get some tacos from the taco stand?” It’s a friendly offering, something normal and exclusive to  _ them _ . Wade smiles, openly pleased. 

 

“Petey, you’re a boy after my heart.” 

 

\----

 

MJ looks like she stepped off a runway on most days, her hair tied up in a messy bun as she waits at the coffee shop. Peter, admittedly, was running late and as much as he wanted to say that the reality split  _ helped _ that part of him… He just couldn’t be bothered on his days off most the time. However, this case was brewing dread in him, making him feel constantly uneasy. 

 

He needed it solved sooner rather than later. 

 

“There you are,” She smiles brightly, like the sun peaking out from behind the clouds. 

 

“Hey,” Peter says, sitting down across from her with a heavy thump. He places his coffee and self indulgent scone next to it, situating himself in the best position to comfortably listen to what she had to say. He glances at her, noticing her eyes watching him pensively. Bug under a microscope, again. At least Wade never tries to pry him as hard as she does, “what?” 

 

“You look tired, Pete. You should sleep more,”  _ Ha.  _ The irony of that doesn’t miss him. When he sleeps, he just wakes up. He might as well not be sleeping at all. 

 

“You know, been getting that a lot lately,” He says in good humor, face scrunching a bit as he takes a drink of his too hot coffee. 

 

“We need to stop meeting and getting right into business, but I remember why Elizabeth Brant sounded so familiar. She used to work at the Bugle with me,” MJ pulls a piece of newspaper out of her purse, showing an article between manicured fingertips. Sure enough, there it was, an article by Betty Brant. 

 

“Betty?” Peter prompts, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. 

 

“Yeah, it looks like she ditched her first name when she wrote. At least from what I understand, she was fired from the Bugle about six months ago. Said she had some family issues she was dealing with. I never really met her or knew her that well, but it’s still sad to see where she got lead to. I wonder what made her just go off the deep end,” MJ’s fingers tap against the table, her face turning to one that reflects the grimness that seems to grip the atmosphere. She reaches to nervously play with her hair, “ I just feel like we’ve seen so much death around us, recently. Do you think it’s a bad omen?” 

 

If she’s voicing this kind of thing toward Peter, it’s clear she’s thinking about it. They’ve been best friends for years, know each other intimately, and even are there when nobody else is. The question seems charged, laced with a grim uneasiness that Peter also harbors for other reasons. He sighs, feeling the weight of what she’s asking cramming down his throat and suffocating him. Typically he may have just dropped the conversation before the accident. Peter is now committed to her and Wade more so now than ever. Even if they both have no idea what’s going on. 

 

If they’re both even real. 

 

He reaches across the table, patting his hand on top of hers, warm and comforting. Peter grins, just a small one, but filled with reassurance nonetheless. 

 

“I think if it was a bad omen, we’d probably be dead already. We’ve been pretty lucky so far, I’d say, so I wouldn’t dwell on it,” Peter used to be expert at comforting his friends, here’s hoping he hasn’t lost too much of his game. It does the trick, because MJ flips her hand over to squeeze his. 

 

“Thanks, Pete. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even be  _ acting _ like this with all the things you’re going through right now, but I really appreciate it. And you,” Her eyes are a little misty, and Peter swallows uncomfortably, pulling his hand back after another pat. The mention of Wade places him unnecessarily on edge. Peter opens his mouth to say something, but his phone vibrates on the table and cuts him off. 

 

“Um,” he starts, awkwardly, “do you mind?” 

 

MJ shakes her head, reaching for her coffee, “duty calls.” Peter answers the phone with the admission, grateful that she isn’t peeved they’re being interrupted. 

 

“Parker,” Peter says, taking a sip from his coffee now that it’s cool enough to drink without burning his tongue out of his mouth. For a moment as the silence stretches, Peter thinks that he’ll hear Wade’s voice -- gritty and deep and always fond to bother Peter at any given moment. 

 

“Hey, Peter, can you come in to the station? We got a situation, and I think you might want to be here for this,” Johnny speaks instead, voice pinched with anxiety. Peter reminisces Wade calling Johnny  _ pure dumbass _ . Peter isn’t even reluctant to agree. 

 

“A situation?” Something was going on down at the station? Why hadn’t Reed just given him a call if it was that serious? Perhaps this was just some melodrama, but considering the way this partnership has started, Peter’s not excited for any additional problems he may be picking up. If Johnny likes to blow things out of proportion, then Peter would like to know now. 

 

“Yeah. Some guy is yelling about the girl that was murdered in the middle of the station. He won’t calm down and demands to talk to the lead detective on the case. I’m considered a newbie still, so, I think he might be wanting to speak to you,” Despite the whole thing sounding ridiculous and every bit of something that Peter doesn’t want on his plate, he somehow feels a begrudging respect for Johnny. He didn’t overstep and admitted that Peter would probably be the best to speak to, showing that overall, he respects Peter enough to know his place. 

 

The jury may still be out on Johnny Storm yet. 

 

“Huh, okay. I’m on my way now, just try to hold down the fort until I get there,” Peter hangs up, picks up his coffee and proceeds to chug it down. If MJ were somebody else, a college girl who just wanted to go on a quick date, Peter may have been embarrassed. Instead he wipes his mouth for good measure once he’s done, picking up his scone to eat on the drive to work. He’s not an animal, he doesn’t talk with his mouth full. 

 

“Sorry. We’ll for sure talk soon about other stuff than murder,” Peter says pacifyingly, although he’s not sure when they’ll be able to actually sit down. His mind is less than vacant for complications, balancing two worlds is kinda like that. 

 

Is this how people feel when they have affairs? That explains why all the dramas on TV have people crying and screaming. He feels like he might cry or scream at any given second. 

 

“I’ve watched you solve hundreds of cases, I think I get it by now. Still, thanks for letting me give you information and some insight. You used to never let me talk to you about cases,” Peter pauses to think about it. Did he really never talk about them with MJ the way he does now? Is this  _ new _ after the accident? After a minute of searching his mind, he realizes yes, this is new. The talks he has with MJ now are talks he may have had with Wade, which explains why their plans seem to deteriorate into nothing but talking about murder cases. At least MJ will get an inside scoop story for the Bugle. 

 

“Sure, no problem. If you ever need someone to bring something depressing to the table, I’m your guy,” Peter deadpans, and she looks shocked and raises her hands. Peter for a minute thinks of Wade sitting next to him in the coffee shop, leaning back on the chair, giving Peter a lazy smile. 

 

_ You really know how to put the fun in funeral, don’t you, baby boy?  _

 

“No, I didn’t mean it like  _ that _ \--” MJ starts, voice thick with panic. 

 

“I’m kidding,” Peter says, waving her off as he starts turning for the door, “let me know if you dig up any other stuff about Betty. I’m gonna head to work and see what Johnny’s having a fit about.” Peter waves over his shoulder and starts walking, not turning to see MJ wave goodbye. 

 

\----

 

Startling true to his word, there is a man screaming in the middle of the station. From behind he’s well dressed, dark hair brushed back in an attempt to look professional. Instead he looks gaudy and a fraud, but still he waves his hand around with expensive looking rings, raising his voice while the detectives in the room look at him with mixes of shock and annoyance. For a moment, Peter is thankful Wade isn’t in this universe. 

 

He’d be causing all kinds of trouble with this guy. 

 

“I want to speak to the head detective on this case, now!” The demand rings throughout the office and Reed doesn’t look pleased whatsoever. The tension seems to draw tight as a bow string, and Johnny attempts to cut it, voice firm but still openly nervous. 

 

“I said he was on his way, sir,” He says, and the man looks to Johnny and Peter clears his throat as soon as he sees the man stepping closer to Johnny’s desk. 

 

“Can I help you, sir?” Peter asks, and the man whirls to face him, only a few inches taller but notably angry. His eyes burn fiercely, and Peter nearly feels dizzy with a sense of dejavu. He recognizes him. 

 

“Yeah, you sure can  _ help _ me, buddy. See, I just got a call to my work phone letting me know that Betty Brant was murdered in a motel room. I’m here demanding to know  _ who _ fucking did it, and what the fuck you’re doing about it,” The man bares his teeth to Peter, leaning closer, anger radiating off him like furnace put on the highest setting. 

 

“If I knew who did it, we wouldn’t be having a murder investigation. You want to tell me why that noble mission caused you to come in here and dishevel my work, bother my partner, and scream in the office for everyone to hear, Mr. Savinski?” Peter reminds himself of Wade, sarcasm biting through his words. Johnny seems to now have taken the role of good cop, Peter now becoming the ringleader. 

 

The man opens and closes his mouth a few times, spluttering angrily, before his eyes narrow to slits, boring a gaze that surely would shoot lasers. 

 

“How did you know my name, Detective Parker? I don’t remember introducing myself to you,” Oh  _ fuck _ . Peter only knows Gordon Savinski in the world with Wade. They haven’t met yet in this reality. Panic floods his veins, making Peter feel cold and frigid. His pulse pounds in his ears, realizing that he’s let the two worlds cross and just colossally fucked up with his boss standing less than ten feet away. How does Peter explain how he knew his name without raising questions? Without having to explain himself completely? Without seeming to have gone looking where he wasn’t welcomed? 

 

If Reed finds out what’s going on in therapy, it was over. He was going to be put in the corner, in a baby seat, never allowed to do the job he’d committed himself to for years. Peter will surely lose his mind if he can’t work, if he can’t  _ help _ \-- he will surely go insane. 

 

“I told him who you were,” Johnny cuts in, sensing Peter’s stiffness where he may have been smug before. He also is the only one in the room outside Gordon with a good sight on his body language, “when you come up to our office, you do have to check in with the secretary downstairs. You gave her your name, didn’t you?” 

 

Gordon seems to relax at that, although he hasn’t given up glaring at Peter. He sniffs, rubbing his nose, “ yeah. Guess I did.” 

 

Peter breathes out a sigh of relief, feeling more than grateful that Johnny jumped to his rescue. The complaining he’s done in the last few days about Johnny hits him with guilt right in the gut. This change may not be as bad as he was taking it to be, but one good moment didn’t immediately make Johnny an amazing partner. 

 

It was still nice, though. 

 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Peter continues, authoritative tone leaking back into his voice, “what exactly are you doing? Do you have something to say?”

 

Gordon scoffs, fingers twitching at his side as if to resist the urge to do something. Something violent, Peter assumes, this man doesn’t seem to have a tight hold on his anger. It may be worth noting if he’s coming into the station about Betty. Maybe he got a little too handsy with her, too. Peter thinks of the bruises on Betty’s neck. Were these same hands, twitching with the urge to hurt Peter, the same hands that killed her?

 

“Betty was my ex-girlfriend, alright? We been together since high school. And I know damn well how that works, but I’ve been out of town for a couple months because I sell real estate to high end buyers. I was in Florida, but I had plans to come back soon. We were just on a break, that’s it,” He says the last sentence with a fierceness, eyes downcast, as if he didn’t mean to add it on to the end. 

 

Peter recognizes the emotions he’s talking about, Gordon clearly had plans to come back and get back with Betty. Despite the awkwardness of the whole thing, Peter understood how that feels, how his hopes have no been dashed and the sadness is seeping in. Maybe this anger is an irrational reaction to the sadness that Gordon is experiencing, not knowing how else to process. 

 

It reminds Peter distantly of how Wade was when they first met. 

 

“I understand that her loss is probably very jarring for you,” His tone is calmer now, smoother, like water over rocks. Peter was always capable of being compassionate, and after years of soothing Wade’s aches and urges when he got them, Peter thinks he’s somewhat of an expert at this by now, “I want to let you know we’re doing all we can. I’m sure since you’ve already heard about the case, you know some details, can you maybe shed some light on what was going on with her? We understand that she was out partying that night. She went to a motel nearby. Is there anyone you can think of that might have wanted to harm Betty?” 

 

Gordon clears his throat, hands nervously wringing together and Peter watches as he shifts. Indecisive? Passive? Hiding something? Maybe Gordon knows more than he’s saying. Why would he recieve a call if he wasn’t suspected to be the murderer? He sounded more that he cared about Betty a second ago than wanting to kill her. Maybe this is his repentance? He got angry and snapped? 

 

“She.. she was at that motel… because of me,” Gordon says, quiet and guilty, “ I was.. I was supposed to meet her. We had been calling up to that point, back and forth, and she said she missed me. Said she wanted to get back to how things were. But she was out partying with another douchebag when I called that night. I got mad, and blew her off. Then she-- then she…” 

 

He trails off, hand moving up to wipe viciously at his cheeks. Peter reaches and grabs a tissue off his desk, offering it to Gordon. Gordon snatches it out of his hand without a thank you, wiping his eyes and face hurriedly. 

 

“That’s more than we’ve had in the last couple of days about her,” Peter says, and it’s true, although Gordon does seem to be a lead in both cases he’s dealing with, “I appreciate the information. Do you happen to remember the name of the man she was with?” 

 

Gordon shakes his head. “I didn’t know his name. She probably had his number, though. I’ll bet she was texting him or calling him or snapchatting him that night.” Peter and Johnny look at eachother with different levels of confusion. Gordon looks between them, “what?” He demands. 

 

“Her cellphone wasn’t in the motel room when she was found dead. It was missing,” Peter’s mouth has gone dry. This definitely wasn’t something good. 

 

“But she carried it with her everywhere. The only way she didn’t have it is if someone took it,” Gordon says, voice still thick with emotion. He speaks what Peter is thinking. Someone wanted their tracks covered. 

 

“Thank you for this, again, Mr. Savinski. We’ll definitely keep in touch. Is there any way you’d be okay with us taking a look at your phone to see if we can gather anything useful?” Peter asks, and Gordon nods absently. 

 

“Sure. Just… please find who did this to her.” It’s the nicest tone he’s had since this conversation started. 

 

“That’s what we’re trying to do,” Peter says, and Johnny perks up a little at the use of the word  _ we _ . 

 

\----

 

“When you were watching Gordon grieving, did you have any sense of relation to the way he’s feeling?” Steve’s voice is quiet, pensive, as Peter absently plays with his hands. He’s digging his hooks into Peter like he’s a caught fish, attempting to pull something out of him that’s salvageable. 

 

Too bad Peter was definitely a  _ guppy _ , not worth any merit at all. 

 

“I guess. It’s a horrible way to lose someone,” He couldn’t imagine getting a call that someone had been  _ murdered.  _ Especially an ex-girlfriend. 

 

“Do you think that maybe the reason you struggle to level with him is because you, yourself, have not processed your own loss? These dreams give you whatever you feel that you’re missing -- in your own mind, you haven’t lost Wade. Here, in reality, you see Gordon as someone who grieves the loss of someone he loves. In your dream, he’s strung out and not all there, not really grasping the situation. Don’t you think that it might be a reflection on you not wanting to accept that your partner is gone?” It could very well be likely, if the world with Wade is a dream. Or it could very well not be, if it’s real, and this is a dream. 

 

“I suppose. I don’t know,” For the most part, all this stuff makes Peter just feel like he’s clueless. Everything feels confusing now, he lives his life in a permanent state of not being a hundred percent sure of what’s going on. The last time he was sure of anything, it was before the accident, and the accident itself he doesn’t even remember what caused it. His intellect is absolutely useless, and there’s nothing he dislikes more than being lost. 

 

“You are still in denial of Wade, to the point you won’t allow yourself to have a different partner. You take Johnny as a stand in, despite him wanting to help you. Your reluctance to work with him shows that you aren’t ready to have a new partner. Because having a new partner puts in you a place of having to accept that your old partner is no longer here. If you allowed yourself to actually accept Johnny, you would have to accept that you’ve lost Wade. Don’t you want to validate Johnny the way Wade validated you?” It feels like a jab at Peter’s job, meant to make Peter think and get under his skin. It’s annoying that it works, that Peter knows the reason he doesn’t like Johnny is that he’s reminded of how much he  _ isn’t _ like Wade. 

 

“It just feels like it’s not as easy. My work makes me feel like I’m doing something more, Johnny makes me feel like a babysitter,” The truth, but only partly; deep down Peter knows he has Wade the moment he falls asleep -- that Wade will be there and things will be  _ easy _ again. It feels like a chore getting through work in this reality, in the other, he’s excited to go. 

 

“He’s meant to help you feel complete, like you have someone to rely on. He’s made it clear that he’ll stick his neck out for you, shouldn’t you be doing the same for him? Stop getting caught up on why he was promoted, you should be showing him the ropes and teaching him how to fill Wade’s space. He doesn’t know any better,” Steve has a point, and Peter has learned he really does not like when Steve has a point. Peter’s feels his face twisting, expression going unexpectedly sour. 

 

“Nobody can fill Wade’s space,” The idea alone that anyone could ever  _ be _ like Wade is preposterous. There was nobody like Wade, nobody lifted his mood like Wade. All of this negativity drags him down here. When his eyes close, it evaporates. 

 

“Someone needs to if you’re going to accept that he’s dead, Peter. One day you are going to fall asleep and he will not be there, the dream will have vanished. Accept the loss of him, and let it go. This will only continue to be unhealthy for you. The slip up with Mr. Savinski is only the beginning. Your assumptions based on dreams will only get you into trouble,” Admittedly, Peter almost blew it, but next time he knows to keep his guard up. 

 

“If the reality with Wade is a dream, why did I dream of Gordon before I met him?” It feels  _ good _ to have the upperhand, the question is barbed and set like a tripwire. Have Steve explain  _ that _ to him. Steve thinks for a moment, then shrugs.

 

“Gordon Savinkski is a real estate agent. Before working with bigger clientele, he used to put ads in the paper for whatever he was trying to rent,” Steve explains and Peter nods slowly, showing that he’s keeping up. What’s the point of that? “Before the accident, you and MJ were looking for an apartment together. It makes sense that you might have seen his photo or name.” 

 

It may be likely, however Peter doubts he would have given him a second thought. The idea of them getting an apartment together went up in flames anyways, it’s a thought he doesn’t want to relive any time soon, the wound with him and MJ still too fresh. 

 

“I guess I could have,” It sounds like Peter is done listening and he is. 

 

“Let this case be the cause of you and Johnny working together. Try to move forward with him, even if it’s baby steps. It will lead to progress, and any progress you make to accepting the loss of Wade is good.” 

 

Peter sighs tiredly, hoping that Johnny’s afternoon is significantly more interesting than this. 

 

\----

 

He’s on his way out when his phone starts vibrating again. Peter pulls it out of his pocket, ready for it to be a meltdown from Johnny yet again but he feels the stress disappear when he looks at the contact. 

 

“Hey, MJ,” Peter says, feeling relieved that he can take the load off from therapy. Steve never fails to make the world seem less colorful and bright. Leave it to MJ to come through and recolor everything for him, “what’s up?” 

 

“Hey, sorry to bug you Pete, but I just found something interesting. It looks like Gordon used to get into some trouble, apparently Betty used to complain a lot about gambling and money problems. Even weirder, she used to mention Bennett, too. They’re definitely related somehow, I’m just not sure exactly how. In any case, Gordon and Bennett clearly were not on good terms at the time of his death. It seems Gordon is involved in some pretty shady business. It looks like he gets his funding for all his trips and sells from,” Some papers shuffle, MJ clearly looking for the specific name of something, “Gaxton Property Advisors? Might be useful to do some digging on it.”

 

“Thanks, I owe you one,” Peter pulls out his tiny notepad to scribble the notes down, not wanting to forget anything. 

 

“You do owe me, so I was thinking, what about dinner Friday?” Peter stops walking, wearing at his bottom lip with his teeth. 

 

“Uh, sure. Are we talking to talk cases, or?” Peter doesn’t let himself get excited about anything. 

 

“Sure. Or not. Whatever you want,” It feels like too much choice, and Peter purses his lips. Oh cursed indecision, please let him have a day where he doesn’t have to overthink. 

 

“I’ll see you Friday,” Peter says, partly wanting the conversation to be over. 

 

“It’s a date,” She says, like her words have no impact on Peter. The implications alone make him stew in anxiety for Friday. The phone beeps, making him aware that she hung up and Peter sighs, rubbing his eyes. 

 

Maybe he does need more sleep. 

 

\----

 

“Great morning, huh? You’re looking like a party girl on her third hit of acid at three in the morning, baby boy. No offense or anything, only you could make it look good,” Peter rolls his eyes, reaching to grab a hashbrown from the McDonald’s bag separating them. Although Peter feels tired, his mind is buzzing with ideas on what to ask Bennett’s mother. 

 

Betty and Bennett are definitely related, MJ said. So maybe she could shed some light on that. 

 

“You always know exactly what to say, Wade,” Peter says, voice clipped in annoyance and it’s only 8 AM. Today could only get better, huh? Wade laughs, gruff and amused by Peter’s prickly attitude in the morning. It’s always been this way, somehow Wade could get two hours of sleep and wake up more cheaper than a squirrel that’s found a lifelong supply of trail mix.  _ Balance _ , Steve said,  _ you and Wade used to balance each other. _

 

Peter looks at Wade, who whistles a little to the song on the radio, taking a drink of his coffee. 

 

“We’re about five minutes away from momma bear. Have all your burning questions lined up?” Wade is prompting Peter to run them past him, a usual ritual. Good cop, bad cop. That way if Peter ever seemed like he needed a life jacket to save the interrogation, Wade was there to back him up or bring the suspect back to the subject that hand. It was a good system. 

 

Maybe Peter should teach Johnny to do this as well. The thought makes Peter shake his head. He does  _ not _ want to think about Johnny right now, not when he’s with his  _ actual partner.  _

 

“I’m kinda curious if there’s any history between Gordon and Bennett,” MJ said that Gordon and Bennett go back, and so apparently do Gordon and Betty. Maybe in this reality, they go back as well -- it would only make so much sense if they did. Maybe Gordon had more of a hand in Bennett’s murder. That being said, he seemed high a lot of the time and not the brightest crayon in the crayon box. 

 

Peter’s pride feels temporarily wounded and the burn of insult races through him when he realizes that Steve compared Peter to Gordon from this reality when it came to not accepting Wade being  _ gone _ . There was  _ no  _ way they were anything alike, Peter at least knew heads from tails. 

 

Wade laughs suddenly, throwing Peter a toothy grin that has Peter blinking to keep up with what just happened. Huh? 

 

“If you keep making that face, it’ll get stuck like that, Princess. Who did you so wrong that you’re looking so pissed off? That looks enough to make any man shiver,” Oh. Peter didn’t realize he was making a face. He huffs, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air. 

 

“I wasn’t pissed off, but now I am. Anyways, what’s the verdict of asking about their relationship?” Wade purses his lips, and then blows out a breath loudly, which Peter knows he’s only doing to be annoying, and  _ it is annoying.  _

 

“I think it’d be worth asking, Petey. You always were better at the questions that needed answering, I was always better at making sure they answer,” See? Wade gets it. They’re balanced, as they should be. Peter scoffs and pushes Wade in the seat a little, causing Wade to almost choke on his coffee. 

 

“What’d I do?” Wade demands. 

 

“Why did you even bother asking what I was going to ask? You’re no help.” Peter huffs again and Wade turns up the radio and starts singing in retaliation, clearly over Peter spilling his coffee. The absolute menace! 

 

This definitely meant war. 

 

\----

 

Mrs. Brant was definitely sick, there was no doubt about it. Peter had never seen so many tubes or heard so many beeps. She’s sleeping when they arrive, her eyes blissfully closed as the machines around her work to give her the medication she so desperately needs. It doesn’t take a genius to know it’s  _ bad _ , and once in the room, Peter stiffens tight as a board. Hospitals and centers always make him uncomfortable, always remind him of the accident. 

 

The smell alone makes Peter feel nauseated. He doesn’t want to stay longer than necessary. 

 

Wade shifts a little next to him, bumping their shoulders a little and Peter walks over to the hospital bed and sits in the chair. He clears his throat a little, and the eyes that were once closed open, head turning to look Peter in the face. 

“Hello, Mrs. Brant. My name is Peter Parker, I’m a detective with NYPD. This is my partner, Wade. We’re here to ask some questions about your son, Bennett,” Peter’s voice is gentle and fragile, like spun glass. He watches her eyes close for a moment before opening back up, a small smile on her face. It looks sad, Peter thinks, barely concealing her pain. 

 

“Yes, I know why you’re here,” Her voice sounds airy and thin, probably due to the oxygen coming through the plastic tube in her nose, “my son was not the best, but he still loved me. His habit was what ruined him, deep down.” 

 

Peter nods, swallowing a little thickly. The whole atmosphere is getting to him, reminding him all too much that he almost lost people he cares for. So much loss has been happening around him, pulling up the feeling that he should be having but aren’t there. He feels broken, or thinks everyone must see him as broken considering his lack of understanding how it all feels. 

 

_ Do you think it’s a bad omen?  _

 

“I was just wondering if you could think of anything or anyone that might want to hurt or murder your son?” Peter tries, voice coming out rough like sandpaper. He clears his throat quietly, hoping to rid himself of the sudden emotions he’s feeling. The walls feel like they’re closing in, making Peter feel claustrophobic. He attempts to measure his breaths, like Tony tells him to when he feels overwhelmed. 

 

“He wasn’t involved with good people a while back. Him and his best friend Gordon got into trouble. I’m not sure if someone from that side of his life would have it out for him, but it was a while ago. I don’t know if anyone would still seek him out,” Her words are weak and frail, paper thin in the atmosphere of the room. Peter’s hands are shaking. When did they start shaking? 

 

“Okay. Is there anyone who might know who would have it out for him from back then?” Peter feels warmth at his side, and turns his head at the sudden change and closeness, but realizes it’s Wade coming to stand next to him, not doing anything else or speaking, just standing. Letting Peter feel his presence and the space he takes up. It’s nice, it gives Peter something to focus on. 

 

“He told everything to Betty. That’s his sister. You might be able to ask her, but she’s out of town with her boyfriend,” A sister! That’s how they’re related, they’re  _ siblings.  _ A sister… and a boyfriend, huh? 

 

_ She was with some other douchebag.  _ Could it be the same boyfriend? She’s also still alive. That’s good to hear, at least. 

 

“Sure, can I get the number to reach her at and their full names?” He pointedly says  _ their _ , ears almost too sensitive to sound, waiting for her to respond with something he can use.  _ Anything _ . 

 

“Elizabeth Brant is her name,” Mrs. Brant says windedly, eyes closing, reflecting that she’s getting tired. Peter writes it down as she gives him a number, and Peter is left feeling a little disappointed. He goes to get up, but then, “ her boyfriend’s name is Flash Thompson.” 

 

_ Flash Thompson.  _ Peter jots it down. 

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Brant. If we need more information, we’ll stop by,” He gives her a wave and she smiles from the bed, already on her way to going back to sleep. The conversation may have been short, but it definitely was useful. Peter’s glad for it, he can’t stay in here another second. 

 

\----

  
  


They get to the car and Peter feels a dazed sense of relief wash over him. The hospital-esque vibes the place was giving him was causing him more distress than he realized. He sits, and watches as Wade gets into the car, puts the key into the ignition and doesn’t start it. Instead he turns to Peter, hand reaching out, and then pressing firmly to Peter’s chest. The warmth is unexpected but not unwelcome, and Peter looks at Wade confusedly. 

 

“Take a deep breath for me,” Wade says quietly and Peter does so, watching as Wade’s eyes stay trained on his hand. Peter attempts to catch his eyes, but Wade continues to watch his hand on Peter’s chest as Peter breathes. 

 

“Wade?” Peter asks, tentative in the moment as not to disturb Wade out of thought. It seems to do just that, however, Wade retracts his hand and reaches for the keys to turn the car on. Peter’s mind immediately goes blank, suddenly curious as to what caused Wade to initiate the contact, “ Wade, are you okay?”

 

“Peachy, Petey,” Wade says, voice taking on his cheerful tone and dropping the quietness it had a moment before. The gears have completely switched, from parking to a hundred miles per hour,  “you seemed like a real ghost in there with her. I almost phoned Casper to see if I could get in touch with you. Happy to see you’re back in the present. What’s the game plan, Stan?”

 

Peter shakes his head, “my name isn’t Stan. And now that we know that Gordon and Bennett were involved before this whole thing, maybe it’s a smart idea to take a look into Gordon. He had his own apartment, right? Maybe we should take a look.” 

 

It might teach Peter more about Betty too, which would be a plus either way. 

 

Wade whoops and pumps his fist into the air a little, “Station Gordon’s Apartment is now comin’ right up. I’ll phone Susie and make sure we get a warrant.” 

 

Peter gives him a look, “She hates it when you call her Susie.” 

 

Wade winks at him, “looks like you two have something in common, Princess.” 

 

Peter wrings the moment for all the enjoyment it’s worth when he pulls on Wade’s ear and hears his partner’s hiss of pain. Peter only smiles as Wade smacks at his hand to let go. 

 

Revenge is so sweet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some people have mentioned really loving wade and peter in this story and i couldn't agree more. their relationship and dynamic is so interesting as homicide detectives and partners and i live for that kind of thing. 
> 
> i hope you liked this chapter. 
> 
> i'll see ya in the next one!

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this isn't too confusing. feel free to comment and talk to me! the show this is based off of is awake. frankly i'm writing it because i am enraged it was cancelled. to this day! 
> 
> i have quite a bit planned for this so i hope y'all can sit it out. i know that the pre-wade and peter is gonna be torture but it'll be so worth it, just trust me. ;) 
> 
> i don't really have a set schedule on uploading just bc i'm busy. i'll upload.... when i upload. pls understand and love me anyways. 
> 
> see ya soon! ciao!


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